


Walk Me to the Water, Wash Away My Sins

by Pollydoodles



Series: Saints & Sinners [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers goes to church every Sunday to absolve his sins, even if he does it out of habit and duty more than faith these days. He finds that there are other ways to atone when he's on his knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk Me to the Water, Wash Away My Sins

Every Sunday morning, Steve Rogers rises early. 

Earlier, even, than he does on any other day. He stands, naked, in front of his bathroom mirror and by the weak early morning light that trickles in through the windows he carefully shaves the sharp angles of his face. The razor is a little blunt but it's what he remembers from his youth and so, in deference to a tradition borne from necessity, he keeps it that way. The water is a little cold too, and that's another habit that's stretched on from a time when anything else was a luxury he could ill afford.

When he's clean, and neat, the way his ma would have expected, he shrugs himself into a suit and tie. It fits a little snugly across the chest, because he's broad now, broader than most tailors know what to do with. And so it fits him, more or less, and he makes do.

These morning ablutions, which end in slipping his feet into a pair of shined shoes, polished the night before and set carefully at the end of his bed, find him slipping from a side door and riding the subway seven stops to the wide stone arch of the Our Lady of Immaculate Conception on the corner of 17th and West.

It's not the biggest church, nor the most well known, but he thinks the name fits him more than most. Not for the reason Stark would no doubt snort at, laughing into his whiskey and following with a joke or three about Steve's perceived virtue. Reborn at the hand of a man playing god, his body carved and created but not won for himself, yes - Steve Rogers thinks perhaps that there is a little immaculate conception about him.

He will push open the door, hearing the familiar creak and groan as the old wood protests at the force he tries to temper, and then find his way quietly to the back row. Here he will sit, shrouded in the half shadow and early light that has not yet quite broken through the old stained glass windows that line the small space, and listen in silence as the priest makes his sermon.

There is much of a theme and little variation. Sin is the construct of man, his unavoidable downfall, and as such man must do what he can to absolve himself. Repent. Atone. Beg forgiveness on bended knee and bow his head to the glory of his Father in Heaven above, amen. Steve crosses himself dutifully, ignoring the sly voice in the back of his head that is Bucky Barnes, who spent his youth lounging in the back benches of similar churches and hissing alternate sermons into Steve's ear with the straightest face he could manage.

Steve avoids the confession box, but drops to his knees with large hands clasped in front of him, intoning words to prayers he knew by heart more than half a century ago.

This he does every Sunday morning, insofar as he can, and if the words are starting to ring hollow and the steps he takes from pew to pulpit more habit than need, he pushes it to the back of his mind and makes his pilgrimage anyway.

On Sunday June 5th, 2016, Steve crosses himself - spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch, the voice of Bucky Barnes intones solemnly from the recess of his memories as he does it, just as it does every week - and stumbles from the church door into the brightening morning sunlight of New York as it wakes for the day proper, and into Darcy Lewis. 

He’s not expecting to see her there, but even in his surprise he’s reaching for her to keep her upright, hands all over as he grabs for the petite brunette to avoid knocking her to the pavement. She clutches at his arms in return, mouth making an O of surprise as he barrels into the girl. Her fingernails dig into the soft skin of his biceps and the brief biting pain does more to make him feel human than the whole ritual he’s just performed. 

“Steve-” She gasps his name as he knocks the breath right out of her, and he pulls her to him in an effort to keep them both on their feet. It takes an effort, because he’s fighting against his own weight and it’s not inconsiderable, but then she’s in his arms and against his chest. Panting slightly in surprise and even he’s feeling the quick rush of adrenaline through his veins. 

She swallows and steps back from him after a moment, extricating herself from his grip and he - somewhat reluctantly, he finds - lets her go. 

“Are you, uh,” For some reason not knowing quite how to finish that, Steve jerks a thumb back over his shoulder at the small stone building behind him. Darcy looks, then smiles, the beginning of laughter on her lips. Her nose wrinkles and she looks down at her shoes before turning her gaze back to his face. 

“Um, no.” She answers, mouth twisting a little at the corners and she squints at him a little now that the sun is starting to rise higher and her head is tilted back to accommodate for his height. “I reckon there’s a pretty good chance I’d just burst into flame if I crossed the threshold.” She winks at him and he laughs then, shaking his head. 

They walk, not quite arm in arm because Steve’s old fashioned enough to feel he ought to but used to modern living now that he knows Darcy will give him an odd look if he offers. Instead he sticks close to her side and allows himself to insist she walk on the inside of the pavement, away from the traffic that is starting now to fill the streets. 

“So, church, huh.” 

It’s not exactly a question, but Steve answers it anyway.

“Feels like the right thing to do.” He says, hands in his suit trouser pockets, watching the way the light shines off his shoes as he walks. He’s discarded the jacket now, looped over one arm and his collar loosened slightly now that the day is beginning to warm up. “Wash away my sins, beg forgiveness. That sort of thing.”

She stops, in the middle of the sidewalk, and stares at him. Steve doesn’t notice for a few paces, and a few paces of his - with the length of his legs - carries him a fair way from her before he turns back to the little brunette gaping after him. 

“What?”

“What?” She echoes faintly. “What does Captain America have to atone for? Sorry I saved the world again? Forgive me for all the self-sacrifice? Apologies for looking awesome in red, white and blue?” 

He tells himself sternly that he ought to ignore the last part, though there’s something that bursts hot and tight in his chest as she says it that he has to work hard to swallow away. Instead he drops his gaze to the pavement, hands still shoved into his pockets. “Everyone has some sin they want to confess, Darcy.” 

“Not sure I believe that you have any sins, Cap.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Can’t say I’m convinced, Steve.” She says, grinning. “Reckon maybe you should surprise me.”

She’s probably expecting him to either laugh it off or tell her with an earnest expression over his honest face that he once got a library fine, back in the ‘30s; Steve’s used to the assumptions people make about him. To be fair, it’s nothing new and it’s not much to do with the suit, either. Even when he was 90lbs and could catch a cold just from looking at the rain outside his apartment window, people were underestimating him. All except Bucky, but then Buck always knew him better than anyone else ever had. 

Whatever she is expecting, it’s not his mouth on hers and his hand fisting in her dark hair, tipping her head back a little less gently than is strictly necessary. Though he’d bet serious money that Darcy Lewis was surprised by him kissing her out of the blue in the middle of a New York sidewalk, she’s not shy about kissing him back. Her hands find his chest, one clutching at his collar and the other at his tie. 

When she moans into his mouth, a low sensual noise that he’s pleased to have drawn from her, he has to pull back. He’s panting a little, hair previously neat and carefully brushed into place now askew and cheeks flushed. He’s half-hard in his pants as well, and Darcy - whose bright lipstick is now all over his mouth - flicks bright eyes to his crotch before fixing him with a gaze that’s mirroring the want he knows is all over his own face.

“That tell you anything?” He says, feeling his breath catch in the back of his throat and wanting more than anything to kiss her again. Darcy sucks her lower lip into her mouth, tugging at it with bright little teeth that he suddenly has a vision of grazing across his shoulder and even lower than that. 

“Well,” She said, giving him a look from under lowered lashes. “It’s a start, certainly.”

\--------

He tugs her into his apartment, barely waiting for the door to shut before he has his arms around her, under her, hauling her up against him and urging her legs around his narrow waist. She goes willingly, kissing at his neck and leaving lipstick marks all across his throat. Steve leans her against the wall, rocking his hips up into her in lazy circles and trying to remind himself that it might be nice to stretch this out, take her into his bed rather than lose all control two foot inside the hallway. 

Darcy’s fingers are fumbling at his tie, impatiently pulling the neat knot open until the dark material is lying over his chest either side of his open shirt collar. Then she starts on his buttons, popping one open after the other and kissing her way down his chest as the skin is revealed to her. 

“Christ-” He says, as she finds she can’t go any lower at the angle she’s being held at, and makes her way instead back up his throat and to his earlobe, first licking a hot little stripe up his neck and then kissing on his jawline up to his ear. 

Steve puts her down before he drops her, finding his knees a little weak with her mouth open on his bare skin, thoughts of where else that might lead nearly shorting his brain. Darcy leans back against the wall and he captures her delicate wrists in one broad hand, grinning as he pins them above her head. The stretch pushes her breasts together and he uses his free hand to pull up her shirt and expose her chest to him. 

Darcy’s head rolls back against the wall when he lowers his head to mouth at them, letting his tongue run over the lace of her bra, nipples popping to attention under the thin material as his breath ghosts across them. Her hips jerk involuntarily, and he pulls down the material on one side so that he can get his mouth on her soft skin properly. 

He’s half watching her, and her eyes close when he traces a slow circle around one nipple with his tongue. Steve’s already thinking ahead, wondering what she’ll do when he drops to his knees and spells out his name, and hers, between her legs. She wriggles against him, against the loose grip he has on her wrists, and groans when his tongue flickers quicker over her. 

“Jesus, Steve,” She gasps, arching up towards him with her back curved against the wall. “You’re a terrible tease.”

“You have no idea.” He murmurs, standing up straighter and brushing hair away from her face so that he can press his mouth against her ear. She shivers against him as he crowds her, pressing himself over her body and jerks his hips once, twice, into hers. He’s fully hard now, aching for her, but happy to tease them both until they’re really ready for it. 

“I’m not a patient person,” She warns him as he drags his lips across her jawline and slowly towards her lips. She catches his lower lip with her teeth when he reaches them, not enough to hurt him but a pleasant sting that has him harder in his pants than he’d been before. He grips a little harder around her wrists in response and Darcy arches into him with a gasp that lets him know she likes it. 

“We’ll see.” Steve says, pulling back and letting her wrists drop. As they fall to her waist, so does he, knees bracketing either side of her feet and his hands pushing up at the hem of the little skirt she’s wearing. It’s not that short, not like he’s seen on some girls since he’s been awake, but it’s a damn sight shorter than what he was used to before; and the way it brushes against her thighs makes him want to kiss his way up the inside of them. 

He does, ending with his head under the material and his tongue licking a flat stripe across the gusset of her panties, already damp for him. Steve presses his lips together and kisses his way further up until he finds the edge of them. Catching it in his teeth, he draws back down until they are falling down her legs and he can pull them to her ankles. She steps neatly and he discards them to one side, attention already focused again between her legs. 

Steve rolls his tongue into her experimentally, her skirt still over his head and finds her hands drifting to his shoulders. He pushes them forward, pinning her against the wall, and nudges one leg up and over his shoulder. She’s still wearing her heels and he finds the sharp dig of it into his skin exciting. She’s wet, and he can’t help but drag a finger over her and spread that slick before he licks into her. 

Darcy trembles above him, one hand on his head as he bobs under her skirt, and she’s sighing hard with her hips rolling up to meet his inquisitive tongue. Steve’s always enjoyed this part, the taste and the way he can have his girl calling his name without even undressing her properly if he wants to. He can tell that Darcy’s trying to keep quiet, trying to hold onto her control, and resolves to demolish it. 

His fingers nudge her open further and join his tongue, pushing up into her where he finds her tight and wanting. Steve can’t help but groan himself at that, and his free hand sneaks to his trousers, unzipping them with practiced ease and hauling out his reddened cock. He palms himself lazily, tugging at himself in time with the strokes he’s making into Darcy, sucking at her and swallowing down the excitement as she shudders over his face. 

“C’mon, Darce,” He urges, pulling back and kissing over her between words as he pushes another finger in to join the first, taking his hand off his cock for a moment to grip at her hip and bounce her onto his hand, feeling his way upward with his thumb and pressing into her where he knows it will make her cry out for more. 

Her head falls forward and her hand clutches at his head a little harder. Her eyes are unfocused as she looks at him and he pushes her skirt up to her hips, tucking the hem into the waistband so that she can watch him as he loses himself in her, putting his lips back across her and dancing his tongue across where she is most sensitive. Darcy’s abandoned all pretence at keeping quiet now, and her cries puncture the silence of his apartment every time he thrusts his fingers up into her. 

His hand’s back on his cock now, and he’s pulling at himself faster as he fucks her with fingers and tongue, her hips rolling across him. She comes with his name and a curse on her lips, and Steve can’t help but suck over her as she shakes, trying to drag more out of her, as much as he is able to take from her. Darcy’s head hits the wall and she pushes at his shoulders weakly. He sits back on his heels and grins up at her, cock curving up towards his stomach and his hand still working over it. Steve sucks thoughtfully on the fingers he’s just pulled from her, before switching hands and letting what’s left of the taste of her spread across his cock. 

“You want…?” He asks, looking down at himself and then up at her. She rolls her head forward to look at him, smiling, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders with her shirt still hooked up and her skirt askew. 

“To ride you?” 

She’s barely finished saying it before she’s sinking to her knees with her legs spread over him, and Steve groans as he pushes up into her. Still tight, still wet from his ministrations and her own pleasure, and he spreads a hand over her ass to keep her in place as he thrusts up into her. He leans back on the other hand, angling her to fall forward over him. 

Darcy’s gasping again, and she’s still twitching a little from the orgasm he pulled from her moments before. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders and he’s vaguely aware that he’s still dressed in his Sunday best, cock pulled out of his trousers with his underwear just pulled down a little to free himself. Steve can’t bring himself to care much, finding that the sins he’s committing now feel a lot more like absolution than kneeling with clasped hands at the back of a cold church. 

“Fuck, Steve.” Darcy’s breath is ragged in his ear, and he redoubles his efforts, determined to wring another close from her before he finishes himself. He lets his hand, spread over the curve of her ass as she moves over him, drift to the cleft of her buttocks, and one finger drags slowly over the puckered bud he finds there.

She jerks in surprise, but then she clenches around him and her lips find the curve of his throat. He leans his head back, letting her kiss her way up to his jawline, and he traces teasing little circles over her ass, feeling her shiver as his fingers dance lightly over sensitive skin. Darcy pushes down onto his hips, grinding over him as he thrusts up, harder and harder with his hand now spread as far as it can go, thumb now pressing over her ass and his fingers finding their way to where his cock is buried deep inside her. 

Darcy arches and she’s chanting his name like a prayer in time to the way he’s pushing up into her, starting to jerk and clutch her hands into his shoulders. Her eyes are closed and she sits up a little, changing the angle he’s hitting inside her. Steve takes the opportunity to kiss between her breasts, licking between them before pressing his lips together and murmuring against her skin that she’s so fucking beautiful, sat above him. 

“Oh, god-” She stutters, and he feels her spasm around him. Steve presses his thumb a little harder against her ass and she curves back against him, urging him to tease her again there as she comes for a second time, warm and wet over his straining cock with her thighs clamping around him. She can’t manage anything more than a breathy sigh into his neck as she collapses over him, and he grins into her sweat-slick skin as he loops an arm around her waist. 

He’s still hard, still not finished - though it was close, so fucking close with his fingers over every intimate part of her and his cock buried as far as he could push it into her - and she leans up and whispers into his ear, asking him how he wants it. Steve, catching his breath, because it really was close and he’s still trying to gain total control back even as he gently rocks in her, thinks. 

“You want … ?” She asks in a low voice, husky, and covers the hand he has on her ass with her own, pulling it back up to where it’s drifted from, pushing his index finger against her with her lower lip caught on her teeth as she looks at him. He’s tempted, sorely tempted by that, but he thinks it can wait for another day. He shakes his head but rolls her off him anyway, urges her to her knees so that she’s presented to him, and he can’t resist but to drop his head and lick across her for a moment, pleased with the low groan he gets from her. 

Steve arranges himself behind her, pulling at his cock lightly before lining himself up and guiding himself into her once more. Darcy sighs, and pushes her hips back into him. Steve remains on his knees, thrusting slowly at first, then building to a faster tempo, hips snapping against the curve of her ass. He falls forward as he speeds up, arms caging around her and his teeth biting into her shoulder as gently as he is able to manage. 

Darcy bucks under him, and he wonders if it’s possible to coax a third orgasm from her. He sneaks a hand around her waist, finding her sensitive but still wanting under him. She cries out as he glances over her and his cock jerks inside her as she clenches and pushes back. Steve hammers into her, lips pressed against her spine and murmuring nonsense as he chases his own end. Darcy’s shuddering back into him, meeting him on each thrust and he finally bursts inside her with his eyes closed shut and her name on his lips. 

He pulls out of her gently, tucking his softening cock back into his pants and sitting back on his heels whilst he pushes a hand through his hair. Darcy straightens up and turns back to him, her skirt falling back over her ass to her thighs as she moves. Steve runs a thumb over her lower lip and pulls her against him, kissing her deeply. 

“Okay,” She says, smiling, when he finally releases her, though he’s still got her pressed against him and one arm around her waist with the fingers of his other hand playing with the hem of her skirt as it lays against her bare thigh. “You’re gonna scare the priest at confession next week.”


End file.
